The Basement
by m101cookies
Summary: FULLY SUMMERY INSIDE Sarah, after being locked up for 15 years, is freed to got o Lincoln Boarding School. Automatically, a dashing boy is at her side, and she couldn't be happier. But maybe her grandfather's senile fears were far from gibberish...
1. Prologue

Full Summery: Sarah is a fully blind girl whose life was stolen from her by her less-than-sane grandfather at age 1 when her parents died. Somehow, Sarah finally convinces Jake, or her grandfather, to let her got to Lincoln Boarding School. He warned her one thing: stay away from all boys. Sarah thought it was just the regular male adult worrying for the young female. But maybe there is much more to it than that. Maybe Jake wasn't wrong; maybe he was right. Maybe that dashing boy who seems so perfect is only after one thing, and that is to play his full part in the prophecy, a prophecy which Sarah believed was all just proof of her grandfather's loss of sanity. And everything, EVERYTHING! leads back to the basement of Lincoln Boarding School. 

**Let me explain this: the following is hinting at some hidden drama, and is also telling (though you might not understand) you about how the prophecy came to be. The next part is just a little intro as to Sarah got free. Enjoy! ;)**

Prologue:

Lincoln Boarding School sat at the edge of a lake, the skies always windy and cool, by the moon always showed. It was old and creaky, which was beautiful during the day. But no student dared leave their dorm at night; they didn't know if this was because they were scared, or their bodies naturally repelled by the suffocating darkness. All they knew is that they human instincts which rarely made an appearance shrieked whenever they left their safe, warm dorms.

But if they had left their dorms, they would have heard the chanting; horrid, never ending chanting that was like a hurricane of chilling curses that took affect immediately. They had no words; it was all one long, cordless song that curved and spun like a woven blanket. Rarely did anyone understand it; rarely did it's speaker understand it.

If they listened long enough, around two in the morning the footsteps would begin that night. It was the first time since the chanter that anyone had walked the halls after 10 PM. The steps were eerily even, and each step had a purpose.

If you could somehow watch, you'd see it to.

A man in a gray suit that was very much worn and patched; a student would recognize him as Cam, the old janitor. He was young, but very much tired and unhappy. This usually made him look very much older than he was; instead of the ripe age of 30, he looked 40-50 years old.

But all the sorrow and weariness was gone, replaced by a grim, yet determined, frown as he hurried to a door, hidden by the old stage (It was on the part of the school that was deemed to old to be stable) curtain.

He opened the door and walked down the dirt steps, his foot steps eerily muffled, yet all sound can carry. And the sound that was being carried from the basement was chilling; the chanting was incredibly loud here.

He came to the last step, and said in a commanding and determined voice, "I told you not to come here anymore, Rose."

The chanting stopped, and the silence was filled with a beautiful. Youthful laugh, and then you might be able to see a young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, tall and confident, smiling at Cam easily. "Ah, but the conditions have been just right, Cameron! I just know she hears me now! And I need to bless the child, as she has no mother now, she needs be watched by the—"

"Don't say her name in this place!" Cam hissed. "This place has been contaminated enough by your incessant chanting! The purifying ritual will take months. I want to leave, Rose. I don't care about the child, and I don't care about you God."

Rose frowned. "We used to be so strong together," Rose murmured. "We used to be so perfect together. Where did we go wrong, Cameron?"

"We went wrong when you went too far. It was fun, Rose, it really was. But you are putting too many lives at risk now, including everyone at this school. This isn't a game, Rose," Cameron said softly.

Rose sighed, frustrated. "Why do you insist on lying to yourself? This is securing a place for BOTH of us, whether you like it or now, Cameron. It's already been done. Our children shall be a likeness of us, and shall seek one another like a moth to a flame. And once they are finally joined, Cameron, they shall bear a child who shall chose the gate which they shall enter. It's too late, Cameron. Your daughter is already just like you; she is already feeling the difference. She shall never be complete in this life; nor shall her child, or hers. But on the 5th Generation, she shall find my spawn. This is what shall come to pass, Cameron. It's too late."

Cameron stared at Rose in horror. Memories of them loving each other, or laughing, of kissing, or secrets shared, of their game which was suddenly the fate of the world…Rose was insane! "Rose, _what have you done?!"_


	2. Part 1 Intro: Sarah's Freedom

Part 1 Introduction:

Sarah sighed in frustration as she glared at the locked door. Jake always locked her up in her room, and fed her through a slot. He wasn't abusing her; but he was insane!

Her real dad had died with her mom in a car crash when she was a year old, which she had been in with them. The accident had cost her sight. She never asked why, because she didn't care. She could see, and she never would. Why understand how?

She and been shipped to her grandfather, and he was always raving about spells and "moths to flame" and how she should stay away from boys, and bla-bla-bla!

Lately, to ensure Sarah never left, he locked her up in her room when he left the house. Jake was insane; Sarah had realized this long ago. But what could a blind girl do?

Sarah sat back, and imagined what the world looked like. She remembered flashes, like colors and birds and cars, things that every kids know exist. She heard rain, and the flutter of leaves brushing against her 3rd story window; definitely windy.

Sarah sighed, and for the hundredth time, tried to picture herself. Jake, when he was sane enough comfort her, would always tell her she looked exactly like her father, like Jake when he was young, and so on; dark, brooding blue eyes, and lustrous black hair. She had her mother's dainty nose, and angular boned face. She was beautiful, Jake told her. But then he'd sigh, and say, "You are the flame to which the moth shall come. I don't know why I bother hiding you when you stand out like a beacon."

Sarah hated the fact that she had to be hidden from Jake's senile fears. And she couldn't do anything about it, either. She was totally blind, and didn't have enough practice navigating anywhere but her house.

In fact, when had she ever been outside? Jake always changed things up every year so she would have to practice all over again, and he did his best to recreate nature in his strange, indoor gardens, (He even made likely weather; blizzards and droughts included) but it was a poor substitute for the freedom she lacked.

Sarah hated her life; it wasn't worth living if she couldn't…LIVE!

Sarah sat up right then, as her keen hearing picked up Jake walking through the front door, and to the elevator which led to her room.

She waited on the bed, ready to plead her case. She had always expressed annoyance before, but now she was putting her foot down. She was not a part of some stupid moth-to-a-flame prophecy! She was a normal, 16 year old girl who needed to be around people and go to a REAL school (and not read brail to her heart's content. Seriously, she was taking college coarses!) with REAL chances of danger; not Jake trying to scare her!

Just as expected, Jake opened the door, whistling a happy tune. "Hello, Sarah-boo! I've finally—"

"I want out," Sarah interrupted.

"Huh?" Jake asked, stupidly.

"I'm tired of your senile games. I've never left this house in my life, I'm BLIND, and the only person I've talked to since I was a year old is YOU. I've been all alone, stumbling around in your sick idea of life, and I want OUT! I want to go to school, I want to actually _feel_ things; I want to BE something. I don't care about being ridiculed, or being pitied. I just want the chance at life! There is no prophecy, the end of the world is not coming, and I will _kill_ myself if I have to stay here another week!"

Jake was silent. "Perhaps…Perhaps I have taken this too far, without explaining th—"

"No. I don't want to know. You can't scare me into obedience anymore, Jake. I'm done pretending you can. You will send me to Lincoln Boarding School, and I will arrive in one week, Jake."

Sarah heard him stiffen. "Why Lincoln Boarding School?"

"Because I've read about the school; it's the perfect place for me, I'm sure," Sarah explained. "You will send me there, or I will find a way to kill myself." Sarah meant it, and she hoped Jake could see that. Surely he'd rather send her to Lincoln Boarding School?

Jake frowned deeply. "Fine. But I want you to stay away from boys as much as possible."

Sarah burst out laughing. "Boys? You've kept me locked up for 16 years because of _boys?_"

Jake sighed gravely. "It's more then that, Sarah. Someone at that school is your soul mate, Sarah. But he isn't a good man; he's the evil side of the prophecy, You are the good. You are destined to be together though; I thought I could prevent it though," He muttered.

"Whatever! Sure!" Sarah cheered, not really listening. She was going to be free, at last!


	3. Chapter 1

**Sorry about how short this is. I promise: I'll try and make the following chapters longer. But I'm under a time limmet, so I had to hurry if you guys wanted to meet the "Dashing" boy.**

Chapter 1:

It would be cliché to say she was basking in her new-found freedom. She kind of was, but now she was just numb. She tried to stay numb, but there was a cold pit in her stomach of nerves. She was terrified, or she would be if she stopped to think about it.

She arrived at the office, Jake in toe, as he was crying because of the pain of separation. She remembered blindly patting him on the shoulder, then taking her bags awkwardly. It was then that the ever-attentive secretary told her they had a guide ready for her to lead her from class to class.

It was then that Sarah met Chandler Skies: AKA World's Biggest Moron/Nuisance!

He was bubbly and happy, it seemed. But he lacked the care, attentiveness, and concern to guide her any further than, "Oh, watch your step there!" Obviously, she didn't have any more warning, and tripped frequently, or at least stumbled. And she was to be stuck like this every day till she graduated In two years?!

Then, suddenly, she felt a magnetic pull in a certain direction, and Sarah automatically turned her head to stare at the approaching human being. "Hello," Came a soft, honey voice. "I'm Chris, and I'll take it from her, Chandler," The voice firmly state.

"I was designated at her guide!" Chandler whined possessively.

"And you aren't guiding her well. If I had a quarter for every time she stumbled, and a dime for every time she glared at you afterwards, I'd sat I'd have enough for that new car I was looking at," Newly named Chris said coolly.

Chandler's indignant retort was weak. "You don't have all classes with her!"

"I have all classes with you, don't I?" Chris replied. He took Sarah's arm, and gently guided her away; not like Chandler's possessive grip, but gentle and kind, not to mention the pleasant electricity running between his hands to her arm. She stumbled as she stepped down a sudden stair, and he quickly used both hands to catch her. Suddenly they stopped moving, and Sarah went bright red, thinking she had done something.

Chris's assuring reply made her laugh, "Sorry. I'm not superman, and 5 suit cases plus an endearing girl are more than I can handle. We'll have to stop frequently, you know."

"I can on; it might work like a cane. I just mow down whatever it in front of me," Sarah offered, reaching out blindly.

"Sure," Chris said easily. "But it might make you more clumsy…"

"I've always been clumsy, even when I wasn't blind," Sarah replied. "I'm completely uncoordinated."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" He laughed. Then he handed her a suit case, and Sarah rolled it in front of her, trying to be as alert as possible. Chris fastened his arm around her waist to help her a little, and they somehow got to the dorms. "What is your dorm number?"

"Dorm 4, Room 21," Sarah replied automatically. Jake had drilled her information into her head ENDLESSLY.

"Great! We're neighbors!" Chris replied, then explained as they walked. "They don't have enough money to create another dorm at the moment, so Dorm4 is a mix of boys and girls. The teachers have already accepted that in highschools, there is sex, and no getting out of it. So, we are next to each other. You don't have a room-mate because your rooms had to be simplified to be comfortable to your needs."

"Right," Sarah muttered. Then she sighed when they got to her door. She took out the key and gave it to Chris, and Chris took it and opened up the door. Scents to freesia and lilac floated to her nose, and she felt tears brimming. Chris's sharp, "What's wrong?" came unexpected, as she was hiding her face.

"My grandfather is my legal guardian, and he was so worried about me coming to this school, he got my room scented with my favorite flowers," Sarah summarized.

Chris's firm hand was gently placed on her shoulder, and his soft answer warmed her heart. "Just because he isn't with you right now, doesn't mean he's gone forever. And maybe telephone, email, and other things aren't the same. But somebody will sleep at rest tonight, knowing the only they love most is safe."

"Where did you get that?" Sarah asked, slightly bewildered.

"I'm not as hopeless a dope as Chandler!" His indignant reply came back, his honey voice laughing.

"Well, you do know how to save a girl from air-headed boys, and you are good at composing random, almost poetic, comforting lines. But I'd rather not impose any longer," Sarah said, reluctant to let her new-found friend go. But she knew Chris would rather be out with his friends then in a cramped dorm room.

Chris's reply was sad. "Is this your way of kicking me out?"

Sarah opened her mouth to protest, then giggled. "Please tell me you did not just start one of those misguided wars where I think you don't like me, and vise versa?"

Chris laughed, and Sarah found herself listening to the beautiful sound too closely. Self-consciously, she hid her face in her hair again, though she knew already that she had nothing to be embarrassed about!

"I guess I did," He muttered. "But really, I shouldn't leave you yet," Chris told her, firmly. "I'm worried about you. You don't know your way around this room, and could seriously hurt yourself."

"Are you asking to be my full-time guide?" Sarah asked, astonished.

"Maybe…" She could hear hope in his voice.

"What do you find fascinating about a girl whose world is black?" Sarah asked.

"I don't care if you can't see!" He snorted. "You're fun to talk to," Chris explained.

"I definitely haven't said anything interesting, but fine. Actually: if you are really offering to be my guide, I need you to promise me something," Sarah ordered.

"Sure, anything!" Was the automatic reply.

"First: you can't leave me alone unless I'm with another friend or in my room. Second: I need to be able to trust you to pick out my clothes…and under-garments," Sarah added, going bright red. "And you are not aloud to talk bad about me behind my back. You can spill all you hate about me, and all my dirty secrets when I fire you, or when you quit."

"That is kind of sad when you have no faith in the fact that maybe I don't have anything to complain about," Chris came, his honey voice melting her knees.

"Oh, and you're not allowed to flatter me," Sarah said, blushing. She chose her next words carefully. "Its not that I don't believe I deserve it, just that it makes me uncomfortable, and feel like I'm in a really clichéd story."

**(AUTHORS NOTE: Oh Sarah, if only you knew…)**

Chris laughed good-naturedly. "That's what all the girls tell me!"

Sarah rolled her eyes, but felt a stinging slap. Jerk! Flirting with her, then noting what a ladies' man he was!

"I have to unpack…" Sarah moaned. "Why don't you go take a break while I unpack?"

"Are you kidding me? What part of moving in could you need more help with?" Chris snorted. "I'll help you."

Sarah sighed, feeling a little better. She would make a point of giving him chances to escape her, just in case.

Sarah started with the one in her hand, and he automatically came over and helped. Really, mostly she just got in the way, and when she noted this out loud, he laughed, and replied, "I wouldn't unpack for weeks if you weren't here. We bring out the best in each other!" He cheered.

"Nice to know," Sarah replied drily. "I make you work, and you make me clumsy."

"I thought I was helping that," Chris replied, pretending to be baffled.

"There are more than one ways to make a person fall," Sarah hinted.

The unpacking went by relatively fast, and soon Chris decided a grand tour of her room was needed. So he theatrically began by leading her out the door, and told her to knock after five seconds.

She sighed and dramatically knocked three times when an English accented voice replied, "Yes, hello? Who is it at this ghastly hour?"

"Um…Sarah Walton. I'm trying to get a tour of my apartment so I don't stumble when I'm in there alone," Sarah replied awkwardly. The door opened then.

"Well, don't stand there gawking at me all day, although I'm sure you want to! Come in, come in!" Chris ushered me in. "This you see, is the door." Then eh stepped one step forward, and turned to the right. "This is the bathroom." He took her inside, and placed her hand on the counter top, and Sarah ignored the fact that he was touching her hand. "This is the counter." Then he placed her hand on the show door. "This is the shower." Then he simply pointed at the toilet. "That is the toilet." Then he took her out, and without warning, picked her up, and threw her. She flew, screaming, into the bed where her screams were muffled. "And that," Chris stated gravely, "Is your bed." Then Chris snapped, "Get up, get up! You don't have all day, you know!" Then his hands were on her waist, straightening her up. Then he led her to a door handle, and said, "This is the closet, not the door. I repeat: CLOSET---NOT THE DOOR!" He put her hand on the brail engraving, and she laughed when she recognized: _closet—not door. _"I do believe this tour is over, good day." The he stalked out of the room dramatically. Then, five seconds later was back, as Chris, asked, "What did I miss?"


End file.
